


Syzygy, Rewritten

by panicatthemarvel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Avengers - Freeform, Big Brother Steve, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Depression, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), POV Second Person, Panic Attacks, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Timeline What Timeline, i don't even know where this would fall in the MCU timeline, reader is a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 05:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 15,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19847029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicatthemarvel/pseuds/panicatthemarvel
Summary: A re-write of my work Syzygy, this time written as Bucky/Reader instead of Bucky/OFC.The story of a girl raised by Steve Rogers and kidnapped by Hydra.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Syzygy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143908) by [panicatthemarvel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicatthemarvel/pseuds/panicatthemarvel). 



> Hello dear reader! Idk about y'all but I love Bucky/Reader fics, so I decided to take my own OC fic and rewrite into one of those. thnx for the read!!!

*Bucky's POV*

We found her by accident, to be honest. Sam and I had just infiltrated one of Hydra's lesser bases. I went to the left, Sam to the right. I proceeded to break open the doors of every cell containing a SHIELD agent. I kept going down the hall, just to be sure. I didn't want any agents left behind.

The hallway ended abruptly. At the dead end, I found a small door, hidden in the corner, big enough to be a broom closet. At first glance, it didn't look suspicious, just an average maintenance room, but this particular door had several high-security locks. None of the cells containing agents were locked like this. Fortunately, none of the locks upheld a bullet.

She was there, slumped against the wall, her hands chained above her head. A faint glow resonated from her chest. An arc reactor, but it looked old and rusted. Electrical cords were plugged into it, running through a hole in the wall off to the right. With her eyes were closed and a gag binding her mouth, she showed no evidence of life.

I ran back the way I came, shouting for Sam, not caring that I could jeopardize the whole mission.

"Sam!" I yelled down the opposite hallway. I could see his form running toward me.

"What the fuck, Barnes?"

"Follow me," I said as I turned and ran back to her cell. "We've got a civilian," I shouted over my shoulder.

I led Sam into the room, where she lay in the same position as I found her, unmoved.

"The hell...?" He said. "You work on the gag and cords. I'll get the chains."

I bent down, our eyes at the same level. I searched for a pulse. Barely there, but she had one. With no other choice, I grabbed the cords and pulled. Her eyes opened immediately and I nearly jumped back. The color of the moon, they were an icy silver, almost visibly glowing. Her chest started heaving and I put my hands up.

"I need you to calm down. I'm going to cut the gag, but I need you to stay still so I don't accidentally cut you."

She nodded and I brought the knife up to her mouth. As soon as the gag fell, I heard the clank of the breaking chains. She gasped, and Sam and I extended our hands, pulling her up. As soon as she was on her feet, we let go, and she stumbled. I scooped her into my arms and we ran back to the plane, Sam shouting for everyone to get in. Within minutes we were in the sky.

I made my way to the back of the plane, where the small infirmary was. I'd noticed her eyes were closed again. I laid her down on the stretcher and stepped back, letting the doctors take it from there. I watched them struggle with what to do and end up reattaching electrical cords to her arc reactor.

She sat straight up, suddenly full of energy, ethereal eyes wide open. She looked down at the reactor, sighed, and yanked the cords out. The light began blinking out. She smacked it with the heel of her palm and the light shined steadily.

"And that's all you have to do," she said.

I smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

You have never had a worse headache. The pain thumping from your brain resonates through your body, specifically in the places you're injured. you look down to assess the damage. Raw, bleeding wrists, various cuts and bruises, a ring of blood around the reactor, and a deep gash across your left calf.

"Shit," you mumble. "Bandages, running water?" You ask the doctors to your left.

"Rubbing alcohol." Says the brunette off to your right. He stands next to an equally tall and muscular guy, both with arms crossed.

You groan. "Fine. Get you some?" You ask. One of the doctors hands you a bottle and some bandages tentatively.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to drink it."

The brunette snickers.

The other guy waves the doctors out, and the other holds out his hands.

"Here, let me."

You keep your wrists close to your body, looking for something else.

"Bucky," he says, then gestures to the his friend. "Sam."

"Thank you," You say, looking at him pointedly. "James."

He pauses, taken aback.

"Bucky? Do you know her?" Sam says, confused.

"I don't---"

"Give it a minute," you say.

The muscles in his face relax, and he remembers. "You were there, you were the girl..."

You nod. "We also have a mutual friend."

Sam is still lost. "What...?"

"Where Steve found me at the Hydra facility, I wasn't the only one. There were dozens of other experimental cells. Her screams were the loudest." James says, his brow creasing. "I don't know what you mean about the friend." He shakes his head. "If they just replaced your arm, I can't even imagine what they did to you."

In response, you turn your back to them, lifting your hair, revealing the metal panel installed at the base of your skull, sitting atop your spine. You feel fingers brush across the metal, and you stiffen, letting your hair fall and turning around. A lump forms in your throat at the looks on their faces, but you force it down.

"Well don't just look at me like I'm a kicked puppy," you say, holding your wrists out.

Bucky steps forward, soaks a cloth in rubbing alcohol, and presses it to your wrist. You bite down a shriek.

"Damn, they aren't kidding when they say that stings." You grimace when he circles your wrist, making sure to clean the entire wound. He does the same with your other hand.

After he's finished with your wrists, he soaks a new cloth in alcohol. He looks up at you sympathetically. "This is going to hurt," he gestures to your chest.

You lay down. "Yeah, just do it already."

Your shirt is already torn around the reactor, so he presses the cloth straight onto your skin. The alcohol bites into your wounds.

"Fuck," you bite your tongue, clenching your fists. Nails dig into your palms unconsciously, creating half-moon cuts. Blood drips down your arms and you squeeze your eyes shut.

You feel the cloth lift from your skin a few seconds later, and you sit up immediately, awkwardly holding your arms in front of your body, palms up.

Bucky makes a face at you and attacks your palms with the alcohol, redressing the blood-soaked bandages on your wrists and wrapping your palms as well.

"As much as I imagine that hurt, the cut on your leg is deep. It's going to need stitches later, but for right now all I can do is clean and dress it." He says after he finishes redressing your arms.

"Have at it."

When he presses the alcohol-soaked cloth to your leg, it feels like someone is tearing your skin apart. You shut your eyes as the world begins to spin and breathe deeply, counting the breaths until he secures the gauze around the wound.

"Holy fucking shit." You sit up slowly, slightly light-headed.

"What's your name?" Bucky asks, ignoring your obscenities.

In the chaos of freedom, you'd forgotten to introduce yourself. You do so now, watching Sam step out of the room, looking down at a phone. A few seconds later he steps back in.

"We're on our way to the Triskelion. Fury wants to meet you. He's calling a meeting."

"Alright then."

Sam hands you a glass of water, which you hold delicately in the tips of your fingers.

"Hey, I have a question," Bucky says.

"Hmm?" You look up at him over the rim of the glass.

"That wasn't the same facility we were at. Why did they move you?"

"One guess," you say, setting the glass of water down on the table next to me. When no one responds, you answer for them.

"I tried to escape. Got pretty damn far, too. They had worked too long and spent too much money on me that they needed to make sure I didn't get away. They moved me to where you just found me and increased the security."

"Spent too much money? What did they do?" Bucky continues.

"Well, what they _didn't_ do was give me a higher pain tolerance," I huff, but they don't look amused, so I continue. "I have had a grand total of 22 surgeries. Some minor, some more extensive. Some pretty random. One to give me night vision, which also changed my eye color, one to alter my metabolism so I can't gain or lose weight, one to make me ambidextrous, one to ensure my heart stays at a steady beat constantly, unaffected by the reactor, which doesn't work as well as it should, as you saw, one to perfect my immune system, one to implant 27 languages in my brain. They changed my native language to Russian." You sigh and look down as the memories begin to surface, clearing your throat before speaking again.

"You guys picked me up just before my last surgery. One that would control me more effectively, and permanently, than Bucky's brainwash."

"How'd you get the reactor?" Sam asks.

"Same as your buddy Stark. Guy in the cell next to me created a makeshift bomb and set it off. Killed him, injured me. It was surprisingly powerful. They took from Stark and stuck a magnet in my chest."

With that, the plane jolts as the wheels touch the ground. You were so close to SHIELD headquarters, so close to people who could help, and that realization hits you like a punch to the chest. You clench your jaw. You tried. You did your best. Your kidnapping is not your fault.

You swing your legs over the edge of the stretcher and stand up slowly, following Bucky and Sam out of the infirmary and then the plane, limping slightly.

Immediately you shut your eyes. It's been so long since you've seen the sun that it's nearly blinding. Not wanting to get left behind, you reluctantly open your eyes, covering the sun with your hands. You walk into the Triskelion.

Standing in an elevator is so mundane, and awkward, that you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. It seems such a strange contrast from the imprisonment you never saw an end to.

After going up what seemed like, and probably was, a hundred floors, you finally got off the elevator. Endless hallways and turns later, you enter a secure office. Bucky had to give a retinal scan in order for the three of you to enter.

In the office stands Fury, in a long black coat, Romanoff, leaning against a desk, inspecting her nails, Barton, counting arrows, Stark messing with something on his phone, and Banner, arms crossed, staring out the window. The only one missing was---

Bucky furrows his brow and says, "Hold on." He walks out of the room, down the hall, speaks with someone on the phone, then walks back in a minute later, followed by his best friend.

Bucky enters first. "What the hell is so important that we ALL have to be there--" a familiar voice says just outside the door. Steve Rogers walks in.

You can't help it. You break into a smile.

"Hey, stranger," you say.

He stands at the door, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. After a moment, he says your name so quietly you barely hear it. You nod.

He takes two strides toward you and pulls you into a hug.

"What the hell did they do to you?" He whispers.

"You don't want to know," you respond, so only he can hear.

You pull back, smiling in an effort to hide the pain in your eyes you know he'll see.

"I assume you've met before." Fury's voice pierces the silence.

You turn to look at him. "That's the thing about Hydra; they don't take random girls off the street, they take from the enemy. Steve adopted me from an orphanage in upstate New York when I was 9. He was the big brother I never had. And then Hydra kidnapped me three years ago."

A pause. You realize Fury must not know much about you.

Fury chuckles sarcastically after you introduce yourself all over again. "I kinda figured that."

"Look, I realize you want all the information I might have. I don't have a lot, but I'll tell you what I know. Can we do it later? I'm kind of covered in blood, I'm pretty sure I need stitches somewhere, and I haven't slept well in days."

Fury nods. "Yeah, I'll call a meeting in a few days. Dismissed,"

"Yessir," you say mockingly, under your breath.

Before you can leave, Tony walks up to you, one hand in a pocket. "Nice reactor."

"I would say thanks, but--"

"It was a painful experience."

"Yeah."

"I get it. I gotta go right now, but I wanna talk to you later, get all the details. I'll call Cap sometime."

"Uh, okay," you say to his back as he walks out the door.

As the rest of them file out, one by one, you turn to Steve. "Can I--"

"Of course. It's home." He says quickly.

"Thanks," you smile.

A cold hand rests on your shoulder, and you don't need to turn to know that it's Bucky. "Do you mind if I come with? Having been through what she's experienced...it's awful."

Steve nods. "Yeah, of course. Same goes for you."

You smile to Bucky, and the three of you follow suit.


	3. Chapter 3

A short plane ride later, courtesy of Stark, just as the sun sets, you arrive in Brooklyn, at Steve's apartment. You take the elevator to the sixteenth floor, stretching your legs and yawning.

"Is--" you begin.

"Everything is still in your room." Steve finishes.

You smile. "Thanks."

You walk down the hall slowly, legs aching. Toward the end of the hall, you reach your old bedroom. The walls still covered in posters, ranging from different bands to pictures of the planets.

Grabbing a selection of clothes still in your dresser, you head to the shower, peeling off the gauze on your wounds and staying under the water long after it goes cold. By the time you step out, the apartment is quiet. As you walk back to your room, you look down at your injuries. Several cuts on your arms need stitches, as well as the gash on your leg. You sigh. you hate needles. You grab the first aid kit from the bathroom and step into the hallway.

You look down to the left, where Steve sits on the couch, turned away from you. You know he wants to know what happened, what you went through, but you're not ready yet.

Bucky occupies the room across from yours. The door is closed and it's quiet, but you see light shining from the bottom of the door. You knock softly.

"Yeah?" Comes his voice from inside.

You open the door slowly and walk into the room, closing the door behind you. Bucky sits on the bed, ankles crossed, reading a book.

"Hey. I need stitches on my arms and leg, but I hate needles so I can't do it myself, and I'm not ready to talk to Steve yet, so that leaves you."

Bucky smiles and sits up, holding his hands out. You hand the kit to him and sit down across from him, holding out your arms.

"No promises that they'll be pretty, but I'll do my best." He rummages through the kit, taking out a needle and thread, and alcohol wipes. "There isn't any numbing medicine in here, so it's gonna hurt a lot."

"I know. I took Advil earlier, that should help some."

Bucky takes your left arm, inspecting the injuries and cleaning them once again. It still stings. "I'm gonna start with the cut on your forearm." He looks up at me. "Seriously, this is going to hurt. Talk to me, distract yourself. Tell me about your life before Hydra."

You take a deep breath as the needle first pierces your skin. You recount your life with Steve, from favorite classes in school to aspects of your personality. You ramble on about your favorite subject, why you like it, why you hate all the others. 

The stitches are pulled taut as he finishes and knots the thread. You take another deep breath as he moves to your leg.

"Every Friday when I got home from school Steve and I would walk to the ice cream shop down the street and talk until we didn't have anything left to say. Steve never introduced me to any of his Avenger friends, and he never mentioned me to them either, as far as I know. To this day I don't know how he managed to do that. I knew about them, obviously, but they never knew about me."

Blood drips down to your ankle and Bucky pats at the wound with an alcohol wipe.

"Umm, I was the only kid in the orphanage that didn't care about their birth parents. If they want to find me, I'm sure they could put in the effort. They could be Hydra for all I know." Another wince as he continues sewing up the gash. "I've always wanted a dog, and I tried to convince Steve for so long to get one, but it didn't work. I tried hamsters, or a bird, or even a turtle. But he wouldn't get any. I still really want a pet. Preferably a puppy, but at this point, I'll take anything. Even a cat, though they're not really my favorite. Maybe not a rat though. Or a snake. Never mind, I really just want a dog."

Your leg is throbbing and really fucking hurts. You think you might cry, but you want to avoid that at all costs. The solution to this, it seems, is to tell an embarrassing story, which makes perfect sense. So you rattle on about some experience from high school that swore you'd never repeat. Pain does interesting things to the brain.

At this point, you realize your eyes are squeezed shut. When you open them you see Bucky smirking at you, your leg stitched up and the kit put back together.

"I've been done since you started talking about pets. Your injuries are probably throbbing so badly that you couldn't feel when I stopped stitching them."

You grab a pillow and throw it at him. "Screw you, Barnes!"

He laughs at you as you hop off the bed and limp out the door, huffing the whole way.

You begin back to your room, but pause halfway through the hall. You need to talk to Steve before you go to bed. You sigh, heading to the living room, where you know Steve will still be awake, reading a book or googling random things on his laptop. Ever since he was unfrozen, he stays up late at night catching up on everything he missed. Literally everything. History, pop culture, music, popular authors and books, even fashion and beauty trends.

Sure enough, he's still on the couch, computer in his lap, a Wikipedia article about James Meredith pulled up. You sit on the opposite side of the couch, knees to your chest. He looks up.

"Hey. Couldn't sleep?" He notices your leg. "Are you all stitched up?"

"Yeah, Buck helped." He gives you a small smile. "How did you stay busy these past three years without you around?" You ask jokingly.

Steve sighs heavily. "Bucky. Bucky kept me occupied."

"He didn't recognize me, or even my name," you say. "If you told me about him, why didn't you tell him about me?"

"Bucky only recently became stable. For a while, he faded in and out, and whatever I told the good side of him, the bad side would know too. I didn't want him to hunt you down thinking you were a target."

"The facility where they kept him, where he was brainwashed...I was there too."

Steve stands up and holds his arms out. You push yourself off the sofa and wrap your arms around him again.

"I should've kept searching for you..."

"Hey," you say, pulling away so he can see your face. "It's okay. God knows what they would have done if you had."

He lets you go and gestures to the couch. "Get some rest. I'll stay until you fall asleep."

You lay down on the couch, facing outward.

"Goodnight, kid," he says.

"Mmm," you hum, already falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

A gun fires and you wake from your nightmare, gasping and breathing deeply. You sit up straight, head between your hands, eyes closed. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Four counts in, four counts out. You take one last deep breath and lean back against the couch.

"Are you okay?"

The sudden noise scares you, and you react immediately, instinctively, pulling a small handgun from between the cushions where you jammed it and aiming it at the opposite side of the couch before your brain processes the familiar voice. Your vision clears as your eyes adjust to the darkness, focusing on Bucky's dark form sitting in front of the barrel, hands raised calmly.

"God, you scared me. I'm fine, it was just a nightmare." You flick the safety back into place and set the gun down on the coffee table.

Bucky lowers his hands and raises an eyebrow at the weapon.

"Old habits die hard. And you never know when Hydra is going to come out of the dark corners."

"I don't blame you."

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, his brows furrowing in curiosity rather than confusion.

"What---are your eyes glowing?" He asks incredulously.

"Yeah," you say, almost smiling. "Side effect of the night vision surgery. Backfired. Glow in the dark eyes aren't exactly inconspicuous." You take another deep breath, finally with some semblance of calmness.

"What time is it? And where's Steve?"

"About two in the morning. He left to buy groceries and things for you."

You laugh under your breath. Of course Steve would go shopping at two in the morning, even though nowhere but Walmart would be open.

"He asked me to come and sit here, in case you woke up and found him gone," Bucky says. "It's good that he did."

"Yeah," you say, still breathing deeply. "Sorry, it's going to take a while to get back to normal."

He smiles sadly. "I know. I've had my fair share of nightmares."

You smooth your hair down one more time, then reposition yourself on the couch. You grab the pillow you was previously using, putting it and your head in Bucky's lap. You close your eyes, intending to fall asleep again.

"Let me know if you want me to move," you say quietly.

You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. "Sweet dreams,"

Just before you are fully asleep, you feel his fingers combing through your hair, repetitively, soothingly.


	5. Chapter 5

You wake in your room in the morning, so you assume Bucky or Steve moved you sometime in the night. The clock across the room reads 11 am and the smell of bacon and waffles wafts from the kitchen. You hop out of bed and wince when your foot hits the floor and pain shoots up from your calf. You do your best to shower and wash quickly, running down the hall after changing, as fast as possible while still limping. You swing around the corner and slide into the kitchen on your socks.

On the table lays heaps and heaps of food, more than enough. Waffles, pancakes, bacon, eggs every way possible, an endless array of fruit. The only thing missing is...

"Coffee?" you ask, just as Steve blindly hands you a mug. Bucky stands a few steps away, arms crossed and smiling.

You take a deep breath. You haven't felt this calm in forever.

And just because you are happy for a millisecond, things begin to go wrong.

The phone rings and Steve takes a step toward it. Bucky begins to move toward you, with a worried look on his face, and the light in your reactor blinks out. And when hitting it with the palm of your hand doesn't work, you begin to panic.

Steve freezes where he stands, the phone halfway to his ear. your heartbeat slows, and you wheeze for air, hyperventilating in reverse. you stumble backward, leaning back against the couch. Steve begins to drop the phone when a voice speaks.

"Don't hang up. You see, I'm holding a remote that could completely stop her heart at this very moment."

You know that voice. Clearer through a phone than a loudspeaker, but you would recognize it anywhere. The accent, how every letter is enunciated clearly and crisply. It becomes even harder to breathe.

With a look that could kill and a voice that could petrify, Steve says, "What do you want."

"Oh nothing, really. Nothing more than for you to watch her suffer."

Your vision blurs. The only sounds you can make are deep, gasping breaths that fail at actually inhaling air. Black dots spot the edges of your vision, and you feel dizzy. Bucky's eyes widen and you know he has an idea, but just as he opens his mouth you faint.


	6. Chapter 6

You come back to life with a gasping breath, eyes wide. You're laying down, and you stay down, because you know you won't have the energy to stay standing.

Bucky and Steve come into your line of sight.

"What the hell happened?" you ask, rubbing your eyes and smoothing your hair back from your forehead.

"You passed out," Bucky says, concerned but blunt.

You move your hands from your face to glare at him. "No shit, Sherlock."

He shrugs.

"How long have I been passed out?"

"Almost three days," Steve says, clearly worried and stressed.

You sit up slowly, folding your legs and sitting cross-legged. You're wearing a men's flannel that's three sizes too big and definitely not yours.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asks, handing you a glass of water.

"Not too bad, considering I couldn't breathe when I passed out."

Before anyone can say anything else, Tony Stark walks into the room and sits between Steve and Bucky.

"Heyo! Nice of you to mention me," he says lightly. "I did save her life after all."

"What?" you begin.

"The reactor. JARVIS disabled the tech they used to control it."

"Yes, but I'm the one that called you in the first place," Bucky says, raising an eyebrow at Tony.

"Wait, sorry, hold on." you interrupt just as Steve is about to say something.

They all stop speaking.

You turn to Tony. "You disabled the technology as in you stopped them from being able to control my reactor just this one time or from doing it ever again?"

"Well technically it was JARVIS, though I did tell him what to do--"

"Doesn't matter. Move on."

Tony sighs of frustration, probably upset that he can't get a complete sentence out. "Ever again. But that's not the biggest issue on the table." He looks to Steve and Bucky before turning back to you. "How long ago was it installed? Do you know?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "The guy set off the bomb about three or four months in, so two years? Maybe more. I don't know exactly."

"I'm surprised it lasted that long," Tony says.

"Why? Is there a problem?" Bucky takes a step toward you.

Stark takes a deep breath. "Yeah, a little bit. The battery that's preventing the shrapnel from reaching her heart is old, so it's not stopping the shrapnel, it's just slowing it down. In all honesty, you should be dead by now."

You stand. "Well, we're wasting time then. Let's go." Stark follows you without a second thought.

"What?" Steve asks, but he nevertheless grabs a jacket and follows.

Stark grins. "Come on, Capsicle, catch up."

Bucky steps in, explaining to Steve. "We've gotta go to the compound. That's where the materials are to give her a new reactor."

"A+, Manchurian candidate. A+."


	7. Chapter 7

Luckily the compound is relatively empty by the time Stark gets you there. You almost died several times, but at least you got there in record time.

Tony makes no hesitation and goes directly to his lab. Dr. Banner stands in the middle of the room, looking down at something. He looks up when you walk into the room.

"Is that--" he begins, but Stark cuts him off.

"Help first, questions later."

Banner nods. "Got it."

You follow Tony as he makes his way through the connecting rooms. He stops when he reaches a room with a chair in the middle of the floor--the type of chair you'd sit in at the dentist's office.

"Hop up, Hydra." He pats the headrest of the chair.

"Really? That's my nickname?"

Now standing at a nearby table fiddling with tools, he looks back at you, looks you up and down, nods, and turns back to the table.

"Yup. You don't get to change it either."

"Seriously, I can't put in a formal request for a change of nickname?" You ask as you lean back in the chair.

"Nope."

"Well, fuck."

Tony laughs. He turns when footsteps enter the room.

"Ah, look who decided to join us!"

Steve and Bucky stand facing you, backs against the wall, arms crossed, deadly stare.

You raise your eyebrows at them. "Guys, chill. You look like bodyguards."

Tony turns, tools in hand, and walks to me. "Alright, this shouldn't take too long. Big green in the other room is perfecting my most recent prototype of the arc reactor. It'll power itself, won't give you any palladium poisoning, and it's a stronger battery. It should last your lifetime, but problems happen and it can be replaced if necessary. Got that?"

You nod, leaning back in the chair. "This won't hurt, will it?"

He raises an eyebrow. "What, worried about a little pain?"

"Absolutely."

"Nah, shouldn't be too bad. Maybe a little discomfort, but nothing serious." He shrugs.

Banner walks in, holding a small arc reactor. It looks incredible. Sleek, clean, and lit.

You look over Tony's shoulder. "What shape is it?"

He gives you a weird look.

"You know, your first reactor was a circle, the next upgrade was a triangle, and now you don't have one? Do I get a special shape?"

Banner looks down at the reactor and looks back to you apologetically. "Sorry, it's just a circle." He hands it off to Tony, then pulls a small heart rate monitor next to you and begins attaching the electrodes to your forehead and chest.

You groan dramatically. "But I wanted a diamond!"

Banner looks taken aback, Steve and Bucky roll their eyes, and Tony snickers.

"Yeah, yeah, shut it, drama queen." Tony stands over you with the new reactor in his hand.

"I thought I was Hydra?"

"Same difference. Now, will you kindly shut up so I can save your life?"

You hold up your hands in surrender. Banner stands on your right as Tony inspects your reactor for a few moments. He grabs a screwdriver and unlatches the four hinges around the reactor, then he goes in with his hands and gently lifts it out, wires and all. A small tug and the thing is free. It literally feels as if a weight was lifted from your chest. There is a gaping hole where there should be flesh and blood. It's unnerving. you close your eyes.

Tony notices. "Deep breaths. You're fine. Your heart rate is stable."

Instead of nodding and risking movement, you do as he says. Four counts in, four counts out. There's a small stinging pain beginning in the left side of your chest as the shrapnel begins to move.

"There's a little bit of rust, so I need to clean the inside of the cavity."

"Okay."

He takes a cloth and gently swipes the metal walls, putting a small amount of pressure on your chest. The monitor spikes for a second before stabilizing again. You keep your eyes closed as Tony attaches the new reactor. A satisfying click and it's in place. you open your eyes and take a deep breath.

You look down at your chest. The new reactor gleams, bright silver, new and shiny. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks, Stark," you turn to your right. "And Banner," you add.

You begin to sit up slowly, but Bucky, whom you didn't realize had moved to stand next to you, gently pushes on your shoulder to keep you down.

"While we're here, your stitches need to come out anyway," Bucky says. Steve hands him a first aid kit.

"No, it's only been four days. They need to stay in for another day or so. It's too early to take them out."

"Normally, they'd stay in for six or seven days, yes, but they must have done something to your DNA because you're healing faster than normal."

You close your eyes and sigh, debating if you should argue or not. You didn't know your DNA had been altered that much, but it doesn't surprise you.

"Fine," you say.

Steve and Tony leave the room. Steve comes back a few moments later with Advil and a glass of water. You knock back the medicine.

Bucky stays standing. You hold your leg and arms out. After cleaning the wounds one more time with alcohol, he takes a pair of tweezers and gently tugs on the stitches. The thread pulls through your skin easily. After the stitches are out he cleans the injuries again.

While he works you are caught up in your thoughts and can't stop your emotions from showing. Your eyes sting and your throat begins to close up.

"I know that voice."

Bucky pauses and looks at you, confused. Steve does the same.

"What voice?" Steve says slowly, moving toward you.

"The voice over the phone. I recognized it just before I passed out. It was one of the voices from the first Hydra facility."

The two share a look and turn back to you, waiting for you to finish.

"At that base, there were several voices, and each of them did different things, had different jobs. The one over the phone is the voice that triggered us just before missions."

Your throat closes completely and you stand up.

Steve and Bucky both say your name heavily.

"I'm fine." You rub your forehead. “Can we head back to the apartment?”

They nod, and soon enough you’re on our way.

* * *

The trip back is relatively silent. When we get back to the apartment, you start towards your room, but Steve stops you.

"Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly. Thanks for the offer.”

You turn your back and walk out of the room.

You take another shower. Ironically, water was the only thing Hydra didn't use to torture me, so you take a lot of showers and baths, hoping it will be enough to wash you clean from everything that happened. It never is.

You let your hair air dry to try to keep it damp as long as possible. After the shower you lay on your bed, lights off, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling you begged Steve to buy. A heavy knock on your door gives away Bucky.

"Come in," you say, unmoving.

He walks into your room, and if he's confused at what you're doing, he doesn't question it. Instead, he sits at your desk and waits for you to speak. It takes a while, but eventually, you do.

"Do you remember the words they used to put your brain in winter soldier mode? I remember mine. They don't work anymore, but they certainly don't incite a happy memory."

"A few, but not all of them. If repeated with enough force, I'm afraid they might still work." He says.

"You had nine, right? They only gave me four. Apparently, that was enough to control me." You pause, taking a deep breath. "They chose things you loved and gave them a negative connotation that will never go away." You close your eyes, breathing through your nose.

You feel your bed shift, and when you open your eyes, Bucky is laying on his back next to you, eyes at the glowing ceiling.

He furrows his brows. "What are you, five years old?" He says, half serious and half teasing.

You elbow him. "For the record, I was 15 when I asked for the stars. Plenty old enough to make rational, mature decisions."

He rolls his eyes, unimpressed. You lay there, side by side, in silence for a few moments.

Bucky speaks quietly. "What is the metal on the back of your neck? What did they do to you?"

You take a deep breath. "After a few surgeries, they decided it took too long and was too inefficient to keep opening up your skull to get to my brain. So they cut out a piece of my skull at the base of my neck and replaced it with metal that could be easily screwed in or taken off. Somehow they attached extremely thin wires that run from each part of my brain to the back of the panel. If they wanted to change something, they just adjusted the wires. They can literally rewire my brain. I'm not sure how they managed to attach the wires, but I remember that I was awake for that surgery. They couldn't put I to sleep because it would affect the connection. It was the worst and most painful of all the surgeries."

"That's why you were screaming so loudly," Bucky says quietly.

"I don't even remember screaming, but yeah, probably." You yawn loudly. "What time is it?"

Bucky looks at his watch. "3 in the afternoon."

You laugh humorlessly. "Damn, my sleep schedule is fucked."

"If you take a nap I won't tell anyone." He says, smiling.

"Are you sure? I'm worried I'll get in trouble." But you're already moving to rest your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes.

"Okay, now don't move and wake me up."

He laughs, and says, "Sweet dreams."

You yawn again, and after a few moments, you fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

*Bucky’s POV*

"Hey," Steve opens the door and walks into the room. I put a finger to my mouth and gesture to her with the other hand. Steve goes silent. I can't read his expression. He continues into the room and sits at the foot of the bed slowly so as not to wake her. She rolls over, facing the wall, curled into the fetal position. I sit up and face Steve.

"What's up?" I ask quietly.

He looks down at her with obvious concern.

"I'm worried about her,"

"Me too."

He sighs. "Buck, you know you're my best friend. I am begging you, please be careful around her. You've both been through enough as it is and I don't want things to get worse."

"You're worried I'll turn into the soldier and hurt her. That's why you didn't tell me about her these past few years."

He sighs again, looks down, looks back up at me. "Do you blame me?"

"No." I look at her. She seems so peaceful. "She had it worse than me. I can't imagine what missions they sent her on. What training they put her through. It had to have been horrible."

We sit in comfortable silence for a minute. Then Steve stands. "Fury called another meeting for tomorrow morning. Will you wake her up and let her know? We don't have to go anywhere. Everyone's coming over here. I think she'll be more comfortable."

"Sure," I say as he leaves the room.

* * *

Bucky wakes you up by resting his left hand on your shoulder. You sit upright quickly, regretting it as your vision blurs and takes a moment to refocus.

You rub your eyes and try to not be annoyed. "What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you. Steve wanted me to tell you, Fury and the others are coming over tomorrow morning so you can fill them in."

You yawn. "Okay. Wake you up before they come?"

"Sure," He says.

You lay back down and you're out within a few minutes.


	9. Chapter 9

You're a bit less calm when Bucky wakes you in the morning. This time instead of coming to attention, you fling an arm out, accidentally whacking him in the process. Then you sit up straight.

"Sorry!" You say before you've even focused on him.

"Don't worry about it," he says, rubbing his bicep. "I'm not hurt that easily."

"If you're calling me weak I'll hit you again," you glare at him.

He laughs, holding his hands out. "Never,"

You take them and he pulls you up out of bed. You stand and stretch, yawning.

"I can't remember the last time I slept that well for that long."

"I know the feeling. Come on, it's 9:30. Everyone will be here in half an hour and you need a real meal."

He heads down the hall to the kitchen, where you can already smell food.

"Yeah, considering last time I went unconscious before I could actually eat," you say as you enter the small room.

"Don't jinx it," Steve hands you a plate piled with toast, bacon, and eggs over easy. Next, he hands you a mug of coffee.

"Fill up. Fury's going to want to know everything, which I imagine is a lot, so you'll need the energy."

"Thanks," you say as you pick up your fork.

"Are you going to put on real clothes or stay in sweatpants?" Bucky asks jokingly.

You look down at your outfit, sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, and then glare at him. "Sweatpants are real clothes, for the record. But yeah I should probably change. Because I want to."

You gracefully finish off your plate in the next 30 seconds and run down the hall back to your room. You pull on jeans and a sweater before raking a brush through your hair and running back out to the kitchen. You pull your hair up and wrap it around itself into a messy bun, out of your face and out of the way.

"Time?"

"9:52," Steve says.

"Perfect." You sit back down, wrapping your hands around the still-warm mug of coffee. Just after you take a sip, someone knocks on the door. Steve goes to answer it, and eight people file into Steve's small apartment. Tony, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Vision, and Sam, all following Fury.

You're speechless as they all find a place to sit or stand. Luckily everyone but Bucky and Steve, who sit on either side of you, keep their distance, so you don't feel too overwhelmed.

"You weren't kidding. This really is everyone." you say quietly. Bucky nods.

You make eye contact with Fury. "So how do we want to do this, do you want to ask me questions or do you want me to just start talking?"

A few people, you think Sam and Natasha, snicker quietly.

Fury almost smiles. "How about you just tell us your story? If there are any gaps I'll ask."

"Got it." You take a deep breath before speaking.

"Some of you already know this, but I was in an orphanage for 9 years. Steve adopted me and he was my big brother, and only family, for the next few years. Hydra kidnapped me three years ago. I'm technically 21, but unless I was undergoing surgery or carrying out a mission, I was in cryo. So really I still feel like I should be in high school.

"Anyway. For the first few months after they took me, they put me through 22 surgeries to try and make me the perfect super-soldier. They gave me night vision, they fixed my metabolism so I can't gain or lose weight, they made me ambidextrous, they perfected my immune system, and they made me fluent in 27 languages. Among other things. After the first 4 or 5 surgeries, they got tired of opening up my skull every time to get to my brain, so they installed this," you turn, revealing the metal panel. "And attached wires to the different parts of my brain which all come to connect at the panel. So if they wanted to change something, they just had to open up the panel and mess with the wires, instead of surgically accessing my brain every time."

You pause for a second to take a sip of your coffee.

"Somewhere in that time the guy in the cell next to me set off a makeshift bomb, and shrapnel was buried in my chest. They had an example so they did the exact same thing and put in this," you tap the reactor protruding from your chest. "I assume Tony filled you in with the details, but I'll just tell you that it didn't work very well."

"How many others were there?" Fury asks as he crosses his arms.

"To begin with, I don't know. 10, at least. When we were all taken. Right after they kidnapped me they put us all in cells and spoke from outside, through some sort of loudspeaker. They explained what would be happening to us, and what they would do if we stepped out of line. Within the first few months, after all the surgeries, there were four of us left. Over the years the other three disappeared. I was the only one left. I don't know what happened to the others. I can only assume they died or were killed off.

"In terms of what Hydra was planning, what we were for, if there was some big end goal, I honestly don't know. They never told me any information and there was no way for me to get it. They had awful ways of punishing us, so no one ever stepped out of line that severely. I can only assume that they were trying to create more brainwashed super-soldiers, but a better, stronger, more reliable version." You turn to Bucky. "No offense."

He shrugs and waves it off. "None taken."

You turn back to Fury. "None of us could ever remember the missions we were sent on, what they were for, who we killed. They triggered us and sent us off. We had no memory afterward."

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you. That's all I know. I can't name the doctors who operated on me because I never saw their faces. We never saw anyone's faces. We only heard voices."

"After everything I imagine you've been through, you seem to have come out alright," Fury says calmly.

The other people in the room must feel the shift in your attitude. They must see the glint in your eye because they rustle uncomfortably. Some clear their throats. Others cross their arms. Steve uncrosses his and rests a hand on the back of your chair protectively.

"Yeah. You could say that."You respond, smiling coldly, holding back your anger.

Steve notices. He steps forward and gracefully ends the little meeting, no shouting or cussing involved. Within a few minutes, they file out the door. Tony tries to approach you, but you glare at him until he walks away.

You stand from your seat after everyone has left. Bucky rests his hand on your arm.

But you're already turning away.

"I'm going to take a shower." You walk down the hall, shutting the door firmly behind you.

It's then that you realize it was the first time you shut him down.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: anxiety/panic attack!

Just after you get dressed, you pull on your running shoes and tie your wet hair into a ponytail. You walk confidently toward the front door, doing your best not to make eye contact with Steve, who sits on the couch.

He sees you anyway.

"Where are you going?" He asks. Like he honestly wants to know, not like he's implying you can't leave. Which he also does, subtly.

"For a run. Just around the block. I'm not going far." You say, your hand on the doorknob.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" He asks, concerned.

"Honestly, no. But I don't care, I have to get out and get moving."

"You're not going alone," Steve says just as Bucky walks into the room, also wearing workout clothes and running shoes.

You sigh, annoyed. "And here comes the obligatory 'I'm not a kid anymore' argument. Which is incredibly valid if I might add."

"I'll go with her," Bucky says. He and Steve share a look that you can't read.

"You know, I'm not a kid anymore," you say, mostly under your breath.

"Okay," Steve agrees tentatively, ignoring you. "But don't go far."

"Yes sir," you say as sarcastically as possible as you walk out the door.

Bucky doesn't speak as you leave the apartment complex and step outside. The warm summer air is thick and humid. Dark storm clouds in the sky hint at a coming storm. You don't care.

Without turning to make sure Bucky is following, you start running. You run as fast as your sore muscles will allow. You breathe deeply, straining your lungs. You recall your favorite song and play it in your head, purposefully tuning out the sounds of the city. You don't hear any cars. You don't see any bicyclists or street lights. Your feet follow the path you used to run when you was happy. Before Hydra.

You remember the electricity. The shocks that delivered when you didn't. The men and women you used as target practice. You remember the chains, the food set in front of you that was promised if you could break the chains and get to it. But they were vibranium. You remember the falsified screams played on repeat of Steve, the one person you loved. The thickly accented voices that screeched and scolded. And you run faster.

Within minutes you are so emotional and so exhausted that you stop altogether. Your legs give in and you collapse against the nearest wall. You can't breathe. It's raining now. Water drips from your hair and your hands and your elbows and you are gasping for breath. You look down at the reactor, momentarily forgetting that it's new and improved, and it's lit, it's working. It's your heart that's failing you, not the foreign technology installed in your chest. Even your own body betrays you.

You're not sure how long you sit on the wet cement, rain-soaked and dripping. You finally open your eyes and your face is wet, you cannot discern from rainwater or tears. Your eyes focus on Bucky, reluctantly sitting in front of you because he can't move you but he won't leave you. When he sees that you've focused on him his expression changes and his arms uncross and he moves to sit next to you. His mouth opens and he's talking, he's speaking to you but you don't hear him. You can't make out the words or read his lips.

At the base, everything was so hospital-like and sanitized and isolated. you were confined, secluded, abandoned, only ever poked and prodded with instruments and medical tools and metal chains. Realizing this you suddenly need physical contact. you need the warmth and the comfort that was taken from you for three years.

You're not sure how it happens or who moves first but you become enveloped in Bucky's arms. It's still raining and you're still crying but he's holding you and you can feel his heart beating strong and steady. The rain is so loud and consuming that you're not sure how long it takes you to realize he's been repeating your name over and over again. You pull away, your face inches in front of his, taking deep breaths between sobs. He holds your wrists firmly between you, maintaining physical contact, and you can hear his voice over the rain.

"You're relapsing. Look at me,"

You wipe the rain from your eyes, Bucky still holding your wrists.

"Look at me," he says, louder, firmer.

You do. you focus on him, studying his face, his blue eyes, the wet hair plastered to his forehead.

He says your name.

Our eyes lock.

"Let me help. You're relapsing."

You calm slightly, still crying but quieter.

"Think about Steve. Think about the posters in your room. Think about the stars on the ceiling. Think about the real stars. Hey, look at me,"

You close your eyes briefly but he calls you back to reality.

"Imagine winter in New York. Picture the snow, how everything is covered in a layer of white. Think about your favorite movie. Your favorite actor. Your favorite color. Talk to me, what's your favorite color?"

Your voice is thick and hoarse when you respond.

"Okay, good. What about Steve, what do you love most about Steve?"

You smile around your tears. "He's family, he's always treated me like his family,"

He's smiling and you're breathing deeply and the rain is still pouring over you. You sit in silence for a few moments, staring at each other.

"Are you okay?" He asks suddenly.

You take a deep breath and nod. "I mean no, I'm never going to be okay, but I'm better."

You stand, offering him your hands even though he doesn't need your help. He takes them anyway.

"Let's go home."

The walk back to the apartment is an understanding silence. You don't speak. Bucky keeps an arm around your waist, your shoulders, or hooked on your arm because the meltdown left you with no energy. You walk slowly, shaking the whole way back. And when you step into the apartment and Steve rushes toward you, you know you owe him an explanation but you can't bring myself to speak. Instead, you are content in the hug he attacks you with. You deal with the scolding because you know it's out of love. And when he asks you what happened, are you okay, what can he do to help, all you can say is "I don't want to talk about it,"

And you walk away.


	11. Chapter 11

*Bucky’s POV*

There is a wet spot on the front of Steve's shirt from where he hugged her, who was still dripping wet. When she leaves the room he takes a step to follow her but thinks better of it, respecting her boundaries. Then he turns to me.

"What happened?"

I grab a towel from the kitchen, draping it over my head and trying to dry my hair.

"She relapsed. Not in the sense that she just started killing everyone." Steve crosses his arms. "She just kind of lost it. She broke down and couldn't do anything but cry for half an hour. It took her a while, but she finally focused on me and was registering what I was saying. I don't know what she was thinking of, and I'm not sure I want to."

He begins to speak but I interrupt.

"She knows she needs to explain everything. But after what just happened, give her some space. Let her come to you. Don't push her. Trust me, I know."

He doesn't look happy about it, but I can tell that he understands.


	12. Chapter 12

It takes a really long time for your eyes to fully dry. You don't leave your room until the redness subsides, the puffiness goes away, and the tears stop. When that finally happens you find Steve in the living room. You sit across from him on the couch, and you tell him everything.

Your sentences aren't complete, your voice cuts off now and then, and you choke on your words, but you keep talking. Bucky walks in and sits next to Steve after a while. The exact details are too painful to remember, but you tell them about the surgeries, the training, the missions you remember, the aftermath, the ways they tortured you. Shocks, taunts, psychological distortion, and the grand finale, the graduation ceremony they stole from the Red Room. By the time you're finished, Steve is standing, his back turned to you, and Bucky keeps his head down, looking at his hands, which are clasped together.

You sit in silence for a long few minutes.

Bucky is the first to speak. "Steve, it's her choice. She should make it."

Steve turns, nodding, his eye bloodshot. He makes eye contact with you anyway. When he speaks, his voice is clear.

"Fury wanted to bring you in for testing. You're the first stable, and willing, subject from Hydra that we've had. He wants to put you through different physical, mental, and psychological tests. I said no, for the time being. But Buck's right, it's your decision."

You don't hesitate. "I'll do it,"

"Kid," Steve begins, surely to convince you not to.

"No," you say forcefully. "If it'll help SHIELD find the people responsible for this or any other people that had the same thing happen to them, I'll do it. I don't want anyone else going through hell."

Steve looks down, but nods. He takes a deep breath. "Okay. I'll let Fury know in the morning."

At this moment you realize you have completely lost track of time since your reactor stopped working.

"What time is it? And what day?" You ask.

"About 10 at night, and it's June 27th," Steve responds, looking at his watch. He clears his throat before leaving the room.

You look to Bucky. You can't read his expression, and you leave before he can say anything. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of suicide

Back in your room, you lie on your bed once again, staring at the glowing stars. When there are no more sounds in the apartment and you're sure both of them have gone to bed, you grab the flannel and walk out of the apartment as quietly as possible. You take a few flights of stairs to the roof of the complex, where it, thankfully, is empty.

It stopped raining. You don't know how many hours or days it's been since the storm, but based on the clear sky, it wasn't recent. You walk to the edge of the roof, carefully sitting on top of the small ledge and dangling your feet twenty stories above the street. Looking down, the cars appear insignificant, the people even more minuscule. You'd forgotten that New York streets were never empty.

After surveying the bustling city streets beneath, you look to the sky above. The storm clouds had long since cleared from the sky, leaving only the thick atmosphere to blur the constellations. The summer air is cool and comfortable, and the lingering scent of rain still hangs in the air.

With your back to the door, you don't see Bucky when he comes up behind me. You can't tell it's him until he speaks.

He calls out to you, stopping a safe distance from the edge of the roof, where you sit. "Please don't jump." His voice sounds small and filled with apprehension.

You look at him over your shoulder, making eye contact briefly before you turn back to the skyline.

"I thought about it, but no, I wasn't planning on it."

Bucky sighs, relieved. He closes the distance between you and sits to your left, also dangling his feet over the edge.

"I was getting ready to give you the whole 'it's only temporary, life gets better' speech."

You laugh briefly. "Thanks for sparing me."

After a few quiet moments, you turn to look at him.

"You know, you keep telling Steve to give me space and let me come to him when I'm ready and all that bullshit, but whenever I'm alone, you come find me. Why is that?" You deliberately make eye contact with him and raise an eyebrow.

His eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt.

"Do you think you know what's best for me and Steve doesn't?"

"No, I--"

"Want to get Steve out of the way?"

"No, that's not-"

"That's not what you're intending or that's not how you were going to word it?"

He huffs and crosses his arms, looking at you, clearly baffled and bewildered.

Several times he opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it every time and instead remains silent, keeping eye contact with you. He knows you're only teasing him, and you smile at his loss for words.

"You're such a little jackass." He says eventually, tilting his head to the sky and looking at the stars.

"I get it from Steve," you respond quickly.

"But really, what's the deal?" You ask, this time in seriousness.

Bucky sighs. "After I came out of it, it really helped me to be around friends. Being alone made it worse. I figured having someone around with shared experiences would help you too. Even if you don't want to talk about it, sometimes just the presence of a friend can make the world of a difference." Here he pauses and turns back to look at me. "And, you know, I care about you."

"And Steve doesn't?"

Bucky throws his arms in the air, stands, and walks away from you, exasperated.

"Oh, come on, I'm kidding! I'm sorry!" You call after him, even though you're really not. You stand as well, but you stay atop the ledge, wavering slightly in the breeze. You turn your back on the twenty-story drop.

"Come down from there, you're going to fall!" He says, now walking back toward you.

"No, I'm not, I'm invincible!" You shout to the star-speckled sky, arms outstretched. Being cautious never made you feel as alive as being reckless did, which Steve always hated.

Bucky stands directly below you, hands on his hips, waiting for you to come down. You roll your eyes and jump down from the ledge. Back on the roof, you walk to the large lounge chairs that are always kept next to the small maintenance shed. You drag one out to the middle of the roof and then bring the other right next to it. You get comfortable in one of them and he sits in the other.

"Spend a lot of time up here?" He asks.

"Yup. Steve hates heights so he never follows me. It also tends to be much quieter than anywhere else in the city, so during the school year, I would bring my homework up here and study for hours. Unless it was raining, snowing, or extremely hot."

"I have a very serious question for you." He says.

"Shoot,"

"What's your favorite book?" He asks, dead serious.

You turn to look at him, laughing confusedly. "Wow. Tone it down, Buck, your questions are getting way too deep." After you've finished laughing and making fun of him, you answer his question. 

"What about you? What's your favorite book?"

He shrugs, crossing his arms. "I don't read all that much."

You gasp in fake revulsion. "That's it. Our friendship is over. I knew it wasn't going to work out."

"I do write, though."

"Nope. That does not justify the fact that you don't read."

"Fine then."

"Okay, what's your favorite subject? Like way back when you were in school a million years ago."

"I'm not that old! And I thought you said our friendship was over."

You shrug and tilt your head to the side. "What can you say, I'm a fast-paced character."

"Oh my God," he mumbles under his breath, annoyed at you. Then he speaks up. "Science. Chemistry in particular. I liked lighting stuff on fire and blowing things up."

"Of course you did." You roll your eyes, though you don't think he can see you.

"Okay, what about your favorite artist? Like a band or a singer."

"Fall Out Boy, without a doubt."

"Finally, something we can agree on! But wait, what's your favorite album? I would ask your favorite song but it's simply impossible to choose a favorite Fall Out Boy song."

Bucky laughs and nods in agreement. "If I could only listen to one album for the rest of my life I would probably choose Save Rock and Roll, but you love quite a few of their older and more recent songs."

"I approve," you say, smiling.

After that Bucky doesn't offer a response, and you don't have anything else to say. The two of you sit in silence, deep in our own thoughts, staring at the sky. You curl up with your knees to your chest, wrapping the flannel around your stomach. As usual, Bucky breaks the silence with a question.

"Are you okay?" Is all he says, but you know he means more than just your current state of being.

"I'm...alive," Is the only thing you can think to say. "Right now that's all that really matters. I'm alive, and safe, for the time being. I hope to God that I don't relapse again, but it's not something I think I can control." Bucky remains silent, and you keep talking. "I don't know about you, but most of the time I just feel empty. It feels like mild depression and I don't know what to do about it. It's like I'm feeling everything and nothing all at once and I just..stop. I stop thinking or moving or anything. I'm trying to process what's happening and what I'm feeling but I can't."

Bucky stands up and walks over to your chair. You straighten and make room for him to sit next to you. The chair is large enough to hold you both. As soon as he settles you rest your head on his chest, listening closely to his heartbeat. His arms wrap around you and he pulls you close.

"I know what you mean," he says. "That sounds like what I was feeling when I started to get my memories back."

"How did you do it?"

"What?"

"Forgive and forget. How did you manage to move on?"

His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath. "I didn't, really. I just figured that living in the past wouldn't help me adapt to the present."

"That sounds so fucking cheesy."

Bucky laughs. "It does. But it's also true."

You smile but don't offer a response.

"Are you getting tired? We can go back in if you want."

You shake your head. "No, I've slept enough in the past few years. And I don't want a nightmare to ruin this."

A question pops into your head, but you don't ask immediately. You struggle with it internally, wondering if it'll be a step too far. Your curiosity and need for justification take over, and you speak.

"Did you ever try to kill yourself?" When the words come out of your mouth you're surprised at how calm you sound.

He takes another deep breath and sighs. "No, I didn't. They never allowed me the opportunity."

His fingers trace absent-minded patterns on the exposed skin just below your waist. He's already trying to soothe and calm you because he knows what you're going to say next.

"I did." You swallow. "Several times. It took them a while to figure out that when they gave me a weapon I'd immediately turn it on myself. They eventually learned to trigger me before handing me any weapons."

His arms tighten and you move even closer to him. You sigh, a small feeling of calm settling over you. His fingers have stopped moving and his hand lays flat on your hip.

"If Steve comes up here and sees us he's gonna kick your ass. You know that, right?"

Bucky laughs. "Bring it on."

You smile again. "Hey, do you know if Steve called Fury yet?"

He lifts his wrist to look at his watch. "Well, seeing as it is currently two in the morning, probably not."

"Shit, it's late. Early. Whatever."

He chuckles quietly. "Do you want to go back inside?"

"No, I'll sleep right here if that's cool with you."

You can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. "Yeah, that's cool with me."

And with that, you adjust your position and rest your head in the crook of his neck, your hand on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat and it lulls you to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

You had hoped that because you fell asleep feeling safe, having gotten all of your pent up emotions out of your system, you wouldn't have any nightmares, but you were wrong. A falling sensation jerks you awake and your heart beats rapidly. You close your eyes and take five deep breaths. Four counts in and four counts out. You open your eyes.

You're still curled up against Bucky, who is still asleep. You move your head ever so slightly to look at his watch. 8 am. Steve will be awake soon. You slowly untangle myself and stand up, smiling down at Bucky before going inside, downstairs, and back to your room. Just as you close the door you hear Steve's alarm go off. Before he can come to your room you jump in bed and pull up the covers.

Your door opens, then closes after a few seconds. Steve is satisfied. After a few moments, you hear his footsteps walk up and down the hall a few times. After a while, he starts calling Bucky's name. You get out of bed and walk to the kitchen, blinking and acting like you just woke up.

"Hey, kid. Morning."

You run a hand through your hair. "Where's Buck?"

Steve sighs as he opens the fridge. "I don't know. Any guesses?"

"Maybe he went out for a run?"

"This early? He's not a morning person, I usually had to fight to get him out of bed before 10."

You shrug. "I'm sure he'll turn up."

You sit at the counter and watch Steve while he takes out food for breakfast. He puts a few slices of bread into the toaster, cracks two eggs into a pan, and then pours a glass of orange juice and slides it over to you. The front door opens as you take a sip. You look to Bucky over the rim of your glass. He's glaring at me. Steve turns around.

"Hey, Buck. Where were you?"

He sighs as he walks toward us, then leans against the counter next to where Steve is scrambling eggs. "Up on the roof."

Steve shoots a confused look his way. "Why?"

Bucky looks at you pointedly. "Just wanted to watch the sunrise." He lies.

Steve turns to look at you, having noticed that Bucky seemed to be talking more to you than him. You take another sip of your juice. As soon as he turns back to the eggs, you catch Bucky's attention and mouth 'sorry'. He rolls his eyes but doesn't look too angry.

You set your glass down. "So what's the plan?"

Steve keeps his attention on the pan when he speaks.

"I spoke with Fury earlier. He's about as excited as he gets, which isn't saying a lot, I guess, but he's putting together a team of scientists and doctors. He said he'd get back to me when they're ready to start running some stuff, but it'll be a week. Maybe longer." He slides the eggs from the pan onto a plate, grabbing a piece of toast from the toaster, and hands the plate to you.

"So, in the meantime..." you start.

"No," Steve interjects flatly while cracking two more eggs into the pan.

"I said five words, you don't even know what else I was going to say."

"Yeah, but I didn't like the tone of your voice. And any sentence that starts with 'so' and is immediately proceeded by a suggestion generally doesn't turn out well."

"Fuck you," you say around the bite you just took. You turn to Bucky for help. "Is he like this with you too?"

Bucky snorts, taking the plate of food that Steve hands him. "Nope, just you."

"Anyway, what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted. I want to train. It's been a while since I've had healthy physical activity, and I think we can all agree that it would be best not to start with 5-mile runs in the rain."

Steve pauses for a moment, then shrugs. "I guess that's not a horrible idea."

Bucky laughs around his food, and you shake your head.

"I hate you guys."


	15. Chapter 15

After you've finished our food, you part ways for a few moments, regrouping at the front door when you've changed into workout clothes.

"So, are we going to the tower or upstate?" You ask.

"Tower. Upstate is still in progress." Steve says. Bucky and you follow him as he heads out of the apartment complex.

"And how exactly are we getting there?"

You walk out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk, full of life. Bicyclists swerve to miss you, but neither Bucky nor Steve seem to mind being in the way. They continue around the back of the building, where the tenant parking spots are.

"Oh, fuck me," you say under your breath, spotting Steve's small collection of motorcycles. You always hated the things, and if you had known it was your mode of transportation, you would have backed out of training.

Steve and Bucky have already prepped two bikes and are now looking at you expectantly.

"Is walking an option?" You ask, half-serious, but moving toward Steve.

You get on behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso tightly and putting your forehead between his shoulder blades. You squeeze your eyes shut. "Just tell you when it's over."

The motorcycle's engine vibrates through your bones, and you take off at an unnerving speed. You can feel the wind rushing past your ears, drowning out the sounds of the city around you and the engine beneath you. Your heart drops every time the bike takes a turn, every time you are so sure will be the one that Steve overestimates and flips the bike, and you, over.

You spend what feels like an hour twisting your fists in Steve's jacket and pressing your forehead into his back, terrified of the feeling and the adrenaline. Eventually, the wind around your head slows and you feel the bike still. Your fists slowly unclench and you lift your gaze to the towering building in front of you. Steve helps you off the motorcycle as you walk on shaky legs, and you head to the entrance.

You step into the tower, and it seems quiet. Empty. As we head toward the elevator, Steve asks the soft Irish voice that hangs in the air to take you to the gym. Which, it turns out, is on the 30th floor of the enormous building. In case anyone was wondering.

The gym spans the entire floor and consists of a large common area with every workout machine imaginable, a room filled with flat plastic mats, numerous punching bags hanging from the ceiling, a full wall of weights, and several sectioned off rooms.

"Jesus Christ," you say.

The gym is so large that in your initial scan you failed to notice Natasha, sparring with a dummy, and Sam, who is demolishing one of the punching bags.

Sam spots you as soon as you step out of the elevator and jogs over. He greets Steve warmly and slaps Bucky on the arm, then stretches a hand out to you.

"So you're the long lost sister. Sam. Nice to meet you. Again,"

You take his hand and smile. "Hey, thanks for, y'know, kind of saving my life a little while back. And yeah, I still don't know how Steve managed to keep me a secret all these years. "

Steve shrugs. "I have my ways," he says over his shoulder, walking toward the stack of mats.

"Well, he certainly shouldn't have kept you all to himself. It woulda been nice to have a fresh face on the team." He leans in closer to you. "And I'd save your life any day," he says with a wink. He's flirting, but it's open and friendly. His smile reaches his eyes and his voice is warm.

"Sam," Steve warns. Even though his back is to you, he notices the tone of Sam's voice. "She's underage."

"I'm 21."

"Exactly. She's a child. A literal 12-year-old." Bucky chimes in from the weights.

You look at him, confused and about to respond with a witty comment about how ancient he is when Natasha appears next to Sam.

"Don't worry, they're just jealous. The two super soldiers are a million and a half years old, and Sam is just strange." She gives you a warm smile and formally introduces herself. You decide that you like her.

You shake your head at the group, but tell them it's nice to officially meet them. You walk over to join Steve, where has set up a square of mats, seemingly for sparring.

"We'll start slow, with a few---" his sentence is cut off short when you sweep a leg at the ground, knocking him to the floor. You put your foot on his chest.

"I don't need to be babied. I'm basically half super soldier now, remember?" You hear a snort come from behind you and, momentarily distracted, turn to find the source.

Steve takes this opportunity and yanks you down by a foot, effectively switching places with me. You continue to spar for a few minutes, and you're almost glad Hydra genetically enhanced you, because it means you pose a serious rival to Steve, which was certainly never the case before.

Eventually, your breaths shorten and sweat drips from your forehead. Steve gets you down onto the mat, and you take the few seconds to rest on your back. After you've recovered, he helps you back to your feet.

He allows you a few short minutes of rest, and then he sends you off to the 26th floor for weapons training with Bucky. This is one area in which he obviously excels over Steve. While Steve is a good gunman, it's not his area of expertise, and Bucky is a military-trained sniper.

The 26th floor consists mainly of a shooting range, broken up into stalls, each with their own set of targets. The wall behind the range is lined with every weapon imaginable. Shotguns, rifles, knives, scythes, everything.

Bucky is in the middle stall, looking down at a small pistol, which appears to be taken completely apart. As you walk toward him, his hands work deftly to put every little piece back into its place. He pins the safety, lays it flat in front of him, and looks up at you.

"Steve sent me over for weapons training."

He nods. "How's your weapons?"

"Good. I prefer knives to guns, but I'm still a fair shot."

"A woman after my own heart."

"I thought I was 12."

"You are."

"Fuck you."

He ignores your last comment and continues. "Knives are gonna have to be another day, but we can do some shooting practice."

He gives you a SparkNotes refresher on the parts of the gun, proper stance, and how to handle the machine. Then he turns to the wall of weaponry and selects a plain, medium-sized handgun. He loads 7 bullets into an empty magazine, makes sure the safety is in place, and sets the gun and the magazine in front of you.

Before he releases the gun, he makes eye contact. "Are you okay?" He asks sincerely, and you know he's thinking about what you told him on the rooftop.

"Yes." Your response is a flat statement, but it holds the most confidence you have felt in a long time.

You adjust your clear glasses (which you insisted were both unnecessary and ridiculous, but you can only argue so much with a man holding a gun) and Bucky puts earmuffs over your head.

You take a few measured breaths, push the magazine into the chamber with the heel of your palm, unpin the safety, raise your arms, breathe, and shoot.

The first round goes through the target you focus on, but the shots are much farther from the center than you would like. You reload another magazine. Your aim improves as you get used to the feeling of a gun in your hand, and the target stands as proof. The bullets inch closer and closer to the center, and after reloading again, you hit the bullseye perfectly. You send the remaining bullets through the middle of every other target within range until the gun is empty. You expel the empty magazine, set it down, remove the goggles and earmuffs, and release the breath you were holding. Next to you, Bucky nods approvingly.

"Pretty good,"

You can't decide if you want to take the compliment sincerely, or if you want to sass him ('I know' while tossing your hair dramatically). Apparently, you take too long to decide because Bucky begins messing with the buttons on the side of the stall to have a new target brought into range.

"Okay, now that you're warmed up, I want you to try with your eyes closed."

"Sounds like a challenge, but I'm up for it." You repeat the process of loading the gun, and close your eyes.

Your arms raise to what feels like the right level, and you squeeze the trigger. Almost immediately, your heart drops and resonates loudly in your ears. The sound of the shot rings through the air around you so you feel enveloped in the explosion. You drop the gun, tear off the earmuffs and glasses, leaning your weight on your hands, taking deep and measured breaths.

"Hey, it's okay..." Bucky rests his hand on your back but you twist away.

"Don't touch me, I'm fine."

"What happened?"

You swallow your fear, scared to let the anxiety and panic take over. "Just leave me alone."

He pauses for a second, debating if you are stable enough to be left alone in a room full of guns and ammunition. He resigns to the fact that you will likely not go down without a fight, so he leaves, reluctantly. You know he'll be back eventually to make sure you're not dead.

When the door slides shut behind him, you force yourself to take a deep breath, even though it rattles in your throat the entire way. The muscles in your legs are failing, but you will not allow yourself to crumple to the floor. Pain from your legs shoots through your body and burns in your chest. You squeeze your hands into fists and stay standing.

Your body remains this way, completely tensed, every muscle, tendon, ligament, and bone screaming for you to give in, to melt down and be consumed by terror. You slowly begin with your left hand, allowing myself to relax, pulling apart your fingers and laying your palm flat. Your arm follows, and then you repeat on your right. Your abdomen and legs work as little as possible to hold your weight. The tension releases from your shoulders, your brow, and lastly, your breath. Eyes closed, breathing in and out.

The effort it took to keep yourself upright lays heavily on you, but you don't give in. You live on your terms. Panic, anxiety, and PTSD do not dictate your survival. You do.

You give yourself the luxury of doing nothing but breathing. Before long, you can feel your body regulate. Your heart rate decreases and the aching in your stomach turns to nothing more than emptiness.

Staring at the gun, you remember the task that sent you into a panic. Your eyes raise to the target you had focused on, and you see that your single shot pierced one inch from the bullseye. Normally you would take this as a challenge, and keep practicing until the bullet hits dead center. You glare at the hanging target, the small hole mocking you. Never again.

Your spine straightens, your shoulders no longer hunched with the pressure of standing. God, you hate it. The ever-present terror that clutches your heart, the voices constantly ringing in your ears, reminding you of your purpose. No, not your purpose. Your purpose is not defined by the things Hydra did to you.

Anger rushes through you. You want nothing more than to destroy the people who made you their monster, tear down the organization until you don't have to live in fear of them anymore. Better yet, you want to go back to your old life, a normal teenager with no special abilities or talents. you hate that even though you are temporarily out of their grasp, they still hold power over you, nearly as much as they did while you laid on their surgical tables.

If you were more reckless, you would leave the building and begin hunting them down immediately. But you know that you are powerless to them, and overtaking you would be a walk in the park. You won't give them that satisfaction.

Instead, you settle for leaving the room, finding Steve, and clenching your fists the entire ride back to the apartment. The moments between leaving the weapons room and arriving home are blurred, so you suddenly find yourself pacing in the living room. Steve and Bucky sit on the couch, worriedly watching you, their eyes following your movements.

"I can't live like this. I don't care that we have some semblance of safety for now. I need to be completely rid of Hydra." Neither of them speak in disagreement.

You pause in front of Steve. "I know Fury said a week, minimum. What can we do in the meantime? There has to be something other than waiting around and passing the time with training. Are there agents currently on the case?"

He leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. "Not that I'm aware of. It's highly likely that Fury knows something we don't and is still working on it behind the scenes, he almost always does."

"Is there anyone else in custody with ties to Hydra? Anyone that came from other bases?"

"No one that shares your unique position, as far as I'm aware."

"No Hydra agents? I just need someone that has had some experience with them. There has to be someone we have access to that knows more than I do."

The expression on Steve's face breaks through your anger, and your heart. Like you asked for the moon and he is so desperately trying to find a way to make it happen.

"I'm sorry, kid. There's no one."

You sigh, not surprised, but still full of rage. "Fine. Then I train. I need to be ready."

You turn and head back toward your room. Under his breath, speaking to Steve, you can hear Bucky.

"Are you sure you guys aren't related by blood?"

Steve laughs, and a small feeling calmness spreads throughout your body.

* * *

Later in the day, you're in your room, music playing loudly, when you hear a knock on your door.

"Come in," you yell, moving to turn down the blaring Fall Out Boy.

Steve opens your door and leans against the frame.

"What's up?"

"I thought it might be easier to stay in the Tower for a while, since that's where you'll be training, and probably where Fury will be sending the doctors. I've already spoken to Stark, there's plenty of empty rooms, so all three of us can move in. What do you think?" He says.

You shrug, looking around. "Sounds reasonable to me. This will always be home though, no matter what."

A genuine smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

He's turning to leave, so you throw one more sarcastic comment his way, for good measure.

"I'm sure the team will be happy to have a new face around for a while."

You can hear his groan from halfway down the hallway. "Don't think this makes you an Avenger."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" You yell after him. You're sure he's shaking his head at you.


	16. Chapter 16

Within hours you have all packed your bags, and a car sent by Stark comes to pick you up the next morning. You load your bags and you silently thank God that there are too many to put on a motorcycle. You speed through the city, somehow avoiding all cop cars, and arrive at the tower for the second time in the past two days.

FRIDAY directs you to our rooms on the 15th floor, which consists mainly of living spaces, bedrooms, and bathrooms, with kitchens on the floors above and below. It seems empty, but that doesn't mean you're the only ones in the building.

"Who else is living here right now?" You ask Steve as you haul your bags past three living rooms.

"Stark, Sam, Banner, and Nat. Wanda and Vision live here too, but as far as I know they've taken a vacation to somewhere in Europe."

You think about what it would be like to relax like that, even just for a day. "I don’t blame them."

You stop after passing the fifth living room. The first room has a small black chalkboard hanging on the door, with 'Little Rogers' written in messy letters. You laugh to yourself.

Steve notices the sign and shakes his head. "Buck and I are just down the hall if you need us. Nat's room, too, if you need her for anything."

You nod and enter your room. Well, what you thought was just a bedroom. It turns out to be a suite, complete with a huge bed in the middle of the room facing a nearly equally as large TV. The main bedroom splits off into a full bathroom, bathtub and everything, and a walk-in closet.

"Shit, Stark, how much stuff do you think you own?" You mutter to yourself.

You jump when you hear FRIDAY's voice answer. "Would you like ,e to contact Mr. Stark and let him know you would like a smaller room?"

"Uh, no thanks, this is fine. Thank you," you speak toward the ceiling. You're going to have to get used to that.

"Hey, FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Miss Rogers?"

"Could you play some music for me?"

"Of course. What would you like to listen to?"

"Um, actually, just play some Panic! At the Disco. But like Vices & Virtues, or Death of a Bachelor. Scratch that, play anything but Pretty. Odd. Thanks, FRIDAY."

"Of course, Miss Rogers,"

Brendon Urie's voice follows FRIDAY's, and you commence an unpacking dance party.


End file.
